


coloring hearts

by popper



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:41:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popper/pseuds/popper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Marcus Kane’s Office,” she says, “Clarke speaking. How may I help you?”</p><p>“Hey,” Octavia answers. “Where did you end up taking Aden?”</p><p>Clarke’s heart stops beating. “Aden?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Octavia replies, and then, noticing the way Clarke’s breath hitches: “he’s not with you.”</p><p>*</p><p>or: the single mom!clarke ceo!lexa fluff fest nobody asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so, my hand slipped and i wrote fluff.
> 
> for those following my other story: the updates on the sin take priority and will continue as planed (or something, i try!) so don’t worry on that account.
> 
> for everyone else: this is planned to be teeth rooting fluff of the worst kind. it’s planned to be around four parts so it should be a short ride but i hope you’ll share it with me!
> 
> as usual, a million thanks to JPuzzle (@jixorpuzzle) for looking over this, putting up with me and telling me it’s funny, you are my favourite. <3
> 
> finally, a special shoutout to melo_nanda (@nobulletprooflesbian) for helping me come up with a title for this and also for listening to my feelings and shit this week. :)

 

“I want to be absolutely clear on this,” Clarke says. “You're telling me you're closing the daycare for the day, because somebody _thought_ she saw a cockroach inside?”

Mrs. Green looks distressed and confused at how badly Clarke is taking this. “Pests are a serious problem, Ms. Griffin.”

“So is having nowhere to leave your fucking toddler!”

“Ms. Griffin!” Mrs. Green exclaims, scandalized. “ _Language!_ ”

Clarke blushes. Right, daycare. Swearing is kind of frowned upon. She looks down at Aden, who is oblivious to the whole exchange, holding her hand and trying to shove his fist into his mouth.

She feels a headache coming on. She forces herself to take a deep breath. Murder is bad, Clarke reasons. Especially in front of your three year old.

“But are you sure you can't take him?” Clarke pleads. “Only for a few hours until I can arrange something?”

Mrs. Green shakes her head. “I'm sorry Ms. Griffin, you'll have to -” she pauses, looking for the right word, “endure him this morning.”

Endure him? Oh, this woman just bought all the tickets for the ass-kicking lottery. _Endure_ him? Clarke could just - no.

Clarke takes another deep breath. She doesn't have time for this. She needs to find someone who can take Aden, drop him off and get into work in - she checks her cellphone, Jesus fuck, twenty minutes.

She bends down to pick up Aden and notices he’s having the time of his life, pulling at all the cords of Mrs. Green’s computer with all his might.

She wonders if  she should feel guilty about the pride that swells her chest. Probably. She picks Aden up and he squeals, taking one cord with him.

“Thank you for all your help,” Clarke says, prying the cord from Aden’s fingers and not meaning one syllable.

“Oh,” Ms. Green replies, her eyes flickering to a now black screen and her lip curled in distaste. “It was no problem at all.”

*

Clarke adjusts Aden’s weight on her hip and presses her cell between her cheek and her shoulder as she tries to avoid running into any distracted pedestrians.

“Are you sure you can't watch him?” She asks into the receiver. “I really can't miss work again, they've already warned me. Twice.”

“I'm sorry Clarke,” Raven says, “you know I love that little fucker to hell and back, but I have to work.”

“Mom!” Aden tugs at her shirt. “Mom, green!”

Clarke kisses the top of his head as they cross the street.

“Why can't you work in one of those cool dotcom things that let you take your pets to work?”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Aden is not a dog, Raven.”

“I don't know, he does have that one hoodie with the ears and he likes to bite things.”

Well, that’s just offensive. “He was _teething.”_

“No, Clarke,” Raven insists, “it's high time you accept that you spawned a little demon baby.”

Clarke hangs up on her.

“You're not a demon baby,” she coos.

She looks down at Aden, who's currently trying to reach a homeless man’s beard with his chubby hands.

“Aden, no!”

*

“But are you really, really sure, Bell?” Clarke pleads. “Aden says he misses you.”

Bellamy chuckles. “Low blow, princess,” he says, “but tell him I miss him, too.”

Clarke groans. Bellamy was her last hope. Raven is out, Monty as well, Wells can’t even distinguish a baby from a textbook at this point of the year and the only family that Clarke has left has barely spoken two words to her in four years.

“Dammit,” Clarke says.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Clarke,” Bellamy replies, “you work at the same building Octavia does. Really, how strict can they be?”

Clarke has seen one or two bawling ex-employees who could tell Bellamy exactly how strict Polis inc. is.

*

In the end, the choice falls between calling her mother or taking Aden to work.

Clarke’s finger hovers above her mother’s contact card for a full minute before she sighs and shoves her phone back into her purse. She picks Aden up from the bench and starts walking.

“Ready to see mom’s workplace, Aden?”

Aden giggles and claps his hands.  At least one of them is happy.

*

Octavia looks way too scandalized for someone who used to do body shots at 3pm on a Wednesday.

“Clarke, _no_.”

Clarke uses her best puppy dog eyes. Aden, bless his tiny soul, sees his mom face and promptly imitates her. “Please, O? Just for a little while? Please?”

Octavia grimaces. “This is against company regulations!” She says. “How did you even get him past security?”

“Mom!” Aden exclaims. “Mom, look!”

Clarke pats him on the head absentmindedly. “That’s nice baby,” she says and then, to Octavia: “first of all, since when are you a stickler for regulations?”

Octavia crosses her arms and grumbles.

“Second,” Aden pulls the hem of her shirt, “not now baby - your boyfriend is a terrible security guard. One look at Aden’s face and his resolve crumbled in half a second.”

Octavia looks offended on Lincoln's behalf. “Fine! But you have to come get him as soon as you can. He can’t be here when Indra comes back from the meeting.”

“Thank you!” Clarke says, “Thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Octavia replies. “Just hand me your son.”

She goes to  grab Aden, who is currently amusing himself by shredding what Clarke can only hope are completely inconsequential documents that just happened to be in a manilla folder labeled “URGENT”.

Octavia groans.

*

By some unexpected miracle, Clarke manages to get in before Kane does.

She sighs and sags into the chair, feeling a thousand years old.

She’s fucking exhausted. Day in and day out of working this damn job, picking up Aden, making him dinner, getting him to bed and passing out from sheer exhaustion at 11.30 pm. It's enough to drive anyone mad.

She shakes her head. Focus, Clarke. She justs needs to get everything in order before Kane arrives. Then, if she’s lucky, she might manage to make a run for it during lunch to drop off Aden.

_If_ she finds anyone to watch him.

Her headache isn’t getting any better.

  


*

Twenty minutes later, when she’s in the middle of going through emails and trying to fix the complete disaster that is Kane’s calendar, the phone rings.

“Marcus Kane’s Office,” she says, “Clarke speaking. How may I help you?”

“Hey,” Octavia answers, “where did you end up taking Aden?”

Clarke’s heart stops beating. “Aden?”

“Yeah,” Octavia replies, and then, noticing the way Clarke’s breath hitches: “he’s not with you.”

For a second, Clarke can’t move her mouth. She can’t even breathe.

Then, the adrenaline kicks in. “Where did you lose him? How long? Octavia! Fuck. Jesus. How could you _lose_ _him_?”

“Clarke, breathe.” Octavia says, though she sounds almost as panicked as Clarke feels. “It was a minute ago, he’s gotta be here somewhere.”

Clarke doesn’t bother saying anything else. She hangs up and springs from her desk. She doesn’t even care than when she crosses Kane in the hallway he gives her a wide eyed look and opens his mouth to say something.

She’s going to fucking _murder_ Octavia.

*

Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes and still no Aden. Clarke is almost at the point of a panic attack. Should she call the police? Where could have Aden gone to? He’s too little to go far. Oh, God, he’s so little and this place is full of scissors, outlets and elevators and other dangerous things. Anything could have happened to him. Fuck, she can’t breathe. She’s going to die here in this fucking elevator without having found her son.

She feels her phone vibrate in her hand and answers it before it has a chance to ring. She doesn’t look who it is, she doesn’t care.

“Tell me you’ve found him.”

“I've found him,” Octavia says and then, after a long pause: “He’s ok.”

Clarke sags against the elevator wall. “Oh, thank God.”

She runs a hand through her eyes and exhales, feeling her heart start beating again. She's actually trembling.

“Don't lose him!” She says, “where are you?”

“No I -” Octavia hesitates. “He's in good hands don't worry.”

“I’m on the top floor,” Octavia continues,  “you, uh, you'll see me when the elevator opens.”

How Aden managed to climb three whole floors by himself, Clarke doesn't want to know. But it doesn’t matter.

She punches fifteen on the elevator.

*

True to her word, Octavia is waiting for her as soon as the door opens. Not true to her word: there’s no Aden with her.

“Octavia,” Clarke says, very carefully enunciating each word. “Where's my son?”

Octavia holds her hands up in surrender. “He’s fine, relax, he’s -” she hesitates. “he's playing with the person who found him.”

Clarke relaxes. “Aw, that's cute,” she says, “Where is he?”

Octavia grimaces, which Clarke finds both weird and kind of unsettling, and points to the huge tinted glass doors behind her.

Clarke breathes deeply. All is good. Aden is safe, Kane has not called to fire her (yet), all is good. She lets relief wash over her and smiles.

That is, until she opens the doors and sees what's inside the office.

It's Aden, his chubby legs swaying from side to side, sitting on a gigantic desk. He's babbling nonstop with a smile on his face and is trying to braid the hair of the person sitting on the desk.

Which happens to be none other than the boss of the boss of her boss.

Billionaire and CEO extraordinaire Alexandria Woods.

She’s fucking screwed.

*

She knocks on the open door tentatively.

Both Ms. Woods and Aden look up at the same time. Oh wow, her eyes are really green.

Aden's face breaks out in a grin. "Mommy!"

He turns to Ms. Woods, squirming in excitement.  "Mommy is here!"

Ms. Woods looks down to him and smiles gently. Clarke’s breath catches in her throat.

"So she is," she says and then turns to Clarke. She gives her a look so cold that Clarke wants the floor to swallow her.

"So you’re the one that brought her son to the office against regulations,” the woman drawls, “and then lost him.”

Clarke refuses to cower, though it’s not easy. "Yeah, that’s me," she tries a smile. "Thank you for finding him Ms. Woods."

"Lexa." Ms. Woods corrects, sounding mildly exasperated.

Clarke tries another smile. "Then thank you, Lexa."

Lexa doesn't answer.

Aden chooses that moment to push a stack of perfectly organized papers to the floor.  When they scatter across the office, he giggles and Clarke stops breathing.  

Oh, fucking hell. She's _so_ fired.

Ms. Woods, _Lexa_ , just mock frowns at him. “That was not very nice, Aden.”

Clarke almost wants to pinch herself to see if it’s real, but Aden actually looks _contrite_. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Clarke clears her throat awkwardly. “So maybe I should...take him?”

When Lexa looks back up at her, Clarke realises exactly why they call her the Commander. The way she looks at Clarke sends a shiver down her spine.

“Maybe you should.”

Clarke tries to approach the desk with some semblance of dignity. Aden stretches his arms out to her immediately, smiling wide.

She settles him against her hip and kisses the top of his blond head.

“You should take the rest of the day off,” Lexa adds, already focused back on her laptop.

Clarke wonders if this is Lexa’s subtle way of telling her that she’s fired but she doesn't intend to find out. She definitely does not need to add ‘bursting into tears in front of her kid’ to this Godforsaken day.

“OK,” she says instead. “Thank you, Ms. - Lexa.”

Lexa nods without looking away from the computer. Honestly, what a bitch.

Clarke turns to leave and Aden squirms in her arms to look back at Lexa.

“Bye Lexa!” he shouts.

That does make Lexa look up from her screen. She gives him a tiny, tight lipped smile.

“Goodbye, Aden,” she says. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

Aden giggles. “Pleasure,” he repeats, amused by the word.

Lexa turns her attention back to Clarke, raising an eyebrow at her.

“So,” Clarke says, “Thank you again, Lexa.”

She cringes internally. How many times can one say the same thing before your boss thinks you’re not quite right in the head?

This time, though, Lexa deigns to look at her in the eye. Her eyes are really, really green.

“You're welcome,” she says. “Close the door on your way out.”

Clarke knows a dismissal when she hears one.

*

As soon as she's out of Lexa’s office and into the elevator, the panic sets back in.

She's going to get fired. Lexa is going to fire her and blacklist her from working in this city. Lexa can do things like that, can’t she?

Oh, God what is she going to do? She _can't_ afford to lose this job. She’s barely making ends meet as it is. She’s barely able to provide for her child, keep a roof over his head and clean socks on his feet and now she’s going to get fired. Because the daycare were assholes and she had nowhere to leave her kid.

“Mommy! Mom” Aden tugs at her hand.

She blinks. The elevators doors are open, right. She walks out in a daze, half guided by Aden’s hand.

Right into Marcus Kane.

He smiles. “So this is the famous Aden I’ve been hearing so much about.”

Clarke forces herself not to let her eyes water. “I'm so sorry Mr. Kane, the daycare was closed and I don't have anyone to take care of him and -”

Kane stops her with a hand on her shoulder. “It's fine Clarke,” he says. “I've spoken to Lexa. She said you’ll take the rest of the day off?”

Lexa, _herself_ , called Kane just to let him know Clarke is talking the day off. Just how fast does this woman want to get rid of her?

Clarke nods. “Yes, I - is that OK?”

Kane smiles again and waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll manage just fine.”

He doesn't add _‘without you’_. Clarke still hears it.

*

Clarke wakes up the next day, blinks and immediately feels cold dread wash over her.

She didn't get a call yesterday. She wonders if Lexa is waiting for her to arrive to work to fire her in front of everybody to make an example out of her.

Because _Lexa_ might have smiled kindly at Aden and let him mess up her desk but Ms. Woods? Ms. Woods is The Commander. She’s ruthless, determined and hated as much as she is admired. She’s the youngest CEO of Polis inc., responsible of the most aggressive and effective merger strategy probably ever. She’s a visionary, featured twice in the cover of the Times magazine.

Clarke _might_ have stayed up a bit late reading her Wikipedia page. Among others. Maybe.

The alarm rings again.

She groans. Whatever will happen, will happen. It's time to face the music.

*

She wakes up Aden who, as always, goes from zero to a hundred in about five seconds flat.  
  
"Mom, mom," he says around his sippy cup, "are you taking me to play with Lexa today?"  
  
Clarke smiles. "Slow down baby," she takes the cup from his hands. "No, not today. You're playing with Mrs. Green and your friends today."  
  
Aden pouts. "Mrs. Green _smells_ . Lexa is pretty."  
  
That she is, Clarke thinks. She might be a heartless monster that's gonna leave her and her kid on the street but she sure as hell is pretty.  
  
"I know baby," Clarke says. "Maybe some other day?"  
  
Aden sighs dramatically.  
  
Clarke rolls her eyes. This has been Aden ever since leaving that office. He couldn't have been with Lexa more than twenty minutes but ever since it has been nothing but "Mom, Lexa's hair was so pretty", "Mom, she had braids like Becky.", "Mom, can I go to play in Lexa’s office tomorrow?", "Mom, _mom,_ can Lexa come play?" and on and on and on.

It would be more adorable if the mention of Lexa’s name didn’t send Clarke into a ‘Oh my God, I’m going to be homeless’ mini panic attack each time.  


“But I want to go _today.”_

  
Aden continues to pout all the way to the daycare.  
  
It's a great start to her morning, that’s for sure.

*

This time, the daycare _graciously_ allows Clarke to drop Aden off. If she ever manages to get a decent job, the first thing that will go is Mrs. Green, her stupid daycare and her stupid raised eyebrows at the bags under Clarke’s eyes.

“Long night?” Mrs. Green asks.

Honestly, Clarke is _this_ _close_ to decking her.

*

Clarke crosses the doorway of the building and exhales.

Lexa has not, apparently, hired a hitman to take her out as soon as she approaches the building.

That’s one thing she can cross of her list, at least.

She looks down to her cellphone to check the time and smiles at Aden’s picture. 8:45 am.

This is probably the earliest she’s ever arrived to work and it’s the day she’s getting fired. There’s probably some irony in there somewhere, but Clarke can’t seem to find the humor when she’s about to get canned.

She swipes the card at the Security Barrier and when it turns green she breathes a sigh of relief again. Ok, she’s in. Maybe they’ll let her stay to the end of the week. God, please, at least until payday.

By the time she reaches her office, she’s practically tiptoeing. She’s half convinced a security guard is going to jump from behind a wall any second and drag her kicking and screaming back onto the street.

As soon as she sits on her desk, the phone rings. Clarke takes a deep breath and reaches for her assistant voice.

“Marcus Kane’s office,” she forces herself to sound sweet, peppy and appropriately dead inside. “This is Clarke speaking.”

“Hi Clarke, it's Tris.”

Clarke’s blood runs cold. Tris. Lexa’s assistant Tris.

“Hi Tris,” she manages to get out. “What's up?”

She hears the faint sound of typing. “Not much. Lexa would like to see you in her office.”

Clarke knew it. She _knew_ it. It’s not enough to fire her. Lexa will do it herself. Jesus, Clarke’s going to have to _grovel_ to her.

“Do you know what it’s about?” she asks, hating the way she can’t keep her voice from catching.

She really can’t afford to lose this job.

“Yes, Clarke,” Tris deadpans. “Ms. Woods tells me all about her plans and decisions. She didn't just say ‘Tell Ms. Griffin to come to my office’ and shut the door on my face.”

Tris’ sarcasm really doesn’t help her mood much.  “Fine,” she says, “I get it. I'll be right up.”

“Yes,” Tris answers, “I wouldn’t advise you to keep her waiting.”

Clarke plays solitaire for five solid minutes out of pure spite.

*

Finally, she has no other choice but to answer Lexa’s summons. She lets Kane know where she’s going, fires a quick almost-coherent text to Octavia and puts her phone on silent.

As soon as she hops into the elevator, her mind starts going a million miles a minute.

It’s not fair. If Lexa wanted to fire her, she could just have Human Resources do it, there’s no need to call Clarke into her office and do it herself just to see her squirm.

What kind of heartless fuck does something like that, anyway? Clarke has a _kid_ . She’s a single mom. Aden was in the office for barely an hour. Clarke understands that’s company policy but it’s not _fair_. What is she going to do?

God.

By the time she arrives at the shiny top floor office she’s fuming, wound so tight that when Lexa finally fires her, she’s either going to fly completely off the handle or bawl her eyes out.

Tris smiles her assistant smile up at her. “Hi Clarke! Lexa will see you now.”

Clarke tries to come up with words, but all she does is nod dumbly.

She knocks on Lexa’s door.

“Come in.”

Clarke opens the door and takes a tentative step inside. Lexa doesn’t look up from whatever she’s doing on her computer. She reaches deep down for whatever calm is left and tries to make her voice sound as relaxed as she can, instead of wringing the CEO’s neck.

“Lexa?” She says. “Tris told me you wanted to see me?”

Lexa looks up and blinks at her, as if she doesn’t understand what Clarke is doing here. “Sorry,” she says, “please, come in.”

Clarke is momentarily stunned by the fact that Lexa is talking to her like an actual human being and using the words _sorry_ and _please_.

She takes a seat in front on Lexa’s desk and crosses her hands over her lap. Lexa is looking around her desk, shuffling papers from one side to another, evidently looking for something. Clarke wants to shake her. Just fucking get on with it, Clarke can’t handle the anticipation.

  
Finally, Lexa finds what she’s looking for.  
  
"Here," she says, and handles Clarke ...a drawing.  
  
A terrible drawing, evidently made by a toddler.  
  
Clarke’s toddler, if she’s not mistaken.  
  
_What_ ?  
  
Clarke looks up.  
  
“Your son drew this that yesterday,” Lexa explains, “and informed me on no uncertain terms that it was to be a present for you.”  
  
Clarke looks from her drawing at Lexa and back again. Lexa called her in here, almost gave her a heart attack, to give her a fucking _drawing_ ?  
  
“I think it’s supposed to be you.”  
  
Lexa looks at Clarke expectantly. Right, she has to answer. That’s how communication works.  
  
“Thank you?” she says because, honestly. What the _hell_ is happening?  
  
She notices another drawing in between Lexa’s papers.  
  
"Is that another one?"  
  
Lexa smoothes one of the corners of the paper carefully. "Yes. I think it’s a dog." She explains, "at least that’s what Aden’s informed me."

Clarke forces a smile. “Thank you for this, Lexa.” she says, “and for taking care of him.”

Lexa nods.

Clarke supposes that’s it, so she gets up and walks to the door. She turns around to offer a pleasantry and go back to work and sees Lexa’s looking at Aden’s drawing, the tiniest smile tugging at her lips. She stashes it between other papers, very carefully, as if she was dealing with something delicate.

_Oh, no._

A new kind of panic sets into Clarke’s chest. She’s not going that road. She’s not.

For the record, Clarke knows this is probably the worst idea she’s had in a while before she even opens her mouth. There’s something in the image of Lexa, though, the mighty CEO of Polis inc., the Commander, billionaire and all around terror of the financial world smiling at her kid’s drawing like it’s some sort of precious object makes her heart flutter inside her chest.

And her brain short circuit, evidently.

“Would you like to come to dinner?” She blurts, the words so fast they almost stick together.

Lexa looks up, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her. “Excuse me?”

Clarke feels her face heat up all the way to the tips of her ears. Fuck. Jesus. What the fuck is she doing?

But the words just keep coming. “As a thank you,” she explains, “for Aden. I - he hasn’t shut up about you. I think he’d like to see you.”

_Oh God what is she doing?_

“Not like a thing,” Clarke continues, “or anything. Not that you thought it would be. Unless it's inappropriate. Which it wouldn't be. Since it’s not a thing.”

Clarke wants to die. She used to be _way_ more smooth than this. This is what four years without a date will do to a woman.

Lexa, herself, looks distinctly amused. Her eyes are shining.  This is bad.

Before Clarke can dig herself further into the ground, Lexa speaks.

“Ok,” Lexa says.

Wait.

_What_?

“OK?”

“OK,” Lexa repeats, “Dinner. I’d like to.”

Clarke honestly doesn’t know what kind of bizarro world she’s stepped into. “I’ll just -uh...” she hesitates. Memo you the address? Send you an Email? Ask Times magazine for your number?

Lexa smiles tentatively, almost shyly, and takes a business card from her wallet.

She hands the card to Clarke. It's glossy, fancy and Lexa’s name shines just right when it catches the light and Clarke wonders how stupid, exactly, it is to be attracted to a person's business card.

Probably a lot.

*

_[received 9:15am]_  
O.: CLARKE YOU CAN’T SEND ME A TEXT THAT SAYS ‘im getting fired’ AND NOT REPLY?

_[received 9:15am]_  
O.: WHERE ARE YOU?

_[received 9:30]_  
O: CLARKE FFS

_[sent 9:42am]_  
To: O.  
i didn't get fired

_[sent 9:43am]_  
To: O.  
i might have invited lexa for dinner

_[received 9:56]_  
O.: ….

_[received 9:56]_  
O.: lexa

_[sent 9:56]_  
To: O.  
lexa

_[received 9:57]_  
O.: i sincerely hope this is some other chick that just happens to be called lexa and that you DIDN'T ASK OUR FUCKING CEO ON A DATE

_[received 9:57]_  
O.: clarke when i said you needed to get out more i swear I DIDN’T MEAN THIS

_[sent 9:58]_  
To: O.  
It’s not  date. aden wants to see her. it’s to say thank you. nothing inappropriate.

  


Octavia doesn’t reply. Honestly, Clarke doesn’t really blame her.

She’s so screwed.

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, here’s the thing: sometimes people are nice to you and that’s good and sometimes people are so unbelievably kind and encouraging your little gay heart doesn’t know what to do about it.
> 
> i know i’ve said it before on my other story, but know i really mean it when i say i was flabbergasted and encouraged by the amount of love my little fluffest received. so, to all of you: thank you, i hope life pays you back in kind for the love and kindness you throw into the world.
> 
> i’m also really sorry this took so long, real life just got in the way, i hope the fluff is worth the wait.
> 
> as usual, a special thank you to my beta JPuzzle (@jixorpuzzle) for looking over this with tender loving care, making it 100% better for all you and helping me through when i got blocked. you’re a treasure.
> 
> and thanks again to melo_nanda (@nobulletprooflesbian) for enduring me sending fluff snippets her way at 2am in the morning and responding with pictures of the good earth cleavage. i couldn’t ask for better encouragement.
> 
> ps: for all of you following the sin, that’s nearly done as well, worry not! i know i’ve taken forever with this update, i promise i’ll try to do better for y’all <3

Clarke opens the same cupboard she’s already opened twice in the hope that something expensive, delicious and easy to cook will materialise out of thin air. 

She squints at the contents of her pantry. There’s noodles, a can of peas, some of the mac and cheese that Aden would eat forever if she’d let him and a lot of things that are definitely not appropriate for a fancy dinner to impress Lexa.

Clarke sighs and closes the cupboard shut with a little more force than entirely necessary. Great, the only thing that she’s missing is a broken cupboard door. Just fantastic.

Bellamy’s head snaps up. “Are you alright there, princess?” 

She looks towards the living room where he’s sitting on the floor with Aden. Well, the space that’s separated from the kitchen by a counter and has a couch. Close enough to an actual living room as Clarke’s ever likely to get, at any rate.

Clarke glares at his smug face. “Yes.”

Bellamy raises his eyebrows and makes a noncommittal sound as he goes back to his game with Aden. Clarke isn’t really following but it involves dinosaurs, trains and Aden has been winning for an hour. He doesn’t really grasp the concept of ‘losing’ quite yet.

“Wait,” Bellamy says, frowning at Aden’s toys, “so they can’t ride the train?”

“No,” Aden replies, clearly exasperated by Bellamy’s question. “The dinosaurs fly, they don’t go in the train.”

“Oh, OK,” Bellamy says. “Of course. Can I have a dinosaur, then?”

Aden considers for a long moment. Despite the fact that he’s surrounded by more dinosaur toys he can play with, he has steadfastly refused to let Bellamy play with anything but the train since he arrived. 

“No,” Aden finally replies. “You can play with the train.”

Bellamy looks deeply offended by this. He actually looks up at Clarke for backup, pointing at the dinosaur toys surrounding Aden.

“Clarke,” he says, “your son won’t share his dinosaurs with me.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. Maybe Aden  _ should _ learn a valuable lesson about sharing but honestly, Bellamy is more of a child than he is sometimes. Most of the time.

“He’s three, Bellamy,” Clarke replies. “Play with the train.”

Bellamy huffs but he resigns himself to his fate and goes back to disheartedly moving the train around. 

“Look,” Aden says, shoving one of the dinosaurs he won’t let Bellamy touch in his face, “this one is Lexa the dinosaur.”

Jesus Christ, not Lexa the dinosaur  _ again. _

Bellamy’s grin slowly stretches all the way to his ears. He looks back up at Clarke, his eyes shining with glee. “ _ Lexa _ the dinosaur, huh?”

Aden nods, grabbing the dinosaur with both hands and staring at it intently. “Yes,” he says. “She’s pretty and she flies a lot and, and she’s green, see?”

Bellamy looks as if this is the best day he’s had in his entire life. “Woah, yeah! I can see that buddy, she looks really cool!”

Aden smiles and nods to himself, evidently pleased that Bellamy understands better than Clarke exactly how  _ cool _ Lexa the dinosaur is. Then, he flops on his stomach and goes back to playing with his toys, babbling nonstop so fast his words don’t make any sense and completely ignoring both Clarke and Bellamy.

Bellamy takes advantage of Aden’s lack of interest and stands, stretching his back. 

He looks at Clarke, a crooked smile on his face. As soon as he opens his mouth to speak, Clarke glares at him. 

He chuckles. “OK, fine,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “You decided what to cook?”

Clarke groans. “No.”

Bellamy nods, leaning against the counter on his elbows. “You need to relax, princess,” he says. “It’ll be fine.”

Clarke seriously doubts it. 

What was she even thinking, anyway? She invited Lexa here. She invited _Ms. Woods_ to her crappy apartment to eat her mediocre cooking and now she’s been freaking out about it for four hours straight. God, she should have just quit her damn job, it would have been less traumatic that the thought of Lexa actually having to sit down on her cramped kitchen to eat cheap pasta and having to watch her pretending she’s not disgusted by it all.

“Clarke, seriously,” Bellamy insists, “it’s going to be fine. Octavia is right, you need to get out more.”

“Octavia agrees that this is the worst idea I’ve ever had.”

“Well,” Bellamy replies, “then I take it back. Octavia doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Clarke doesn’t reply. Instead, she moves back to her fridge to inspect the contents for the hundredth time. 

“How long since you’ve had a date, Clarke?” Bellamy asks.

Clarke finds herself suddenly fascinated with yesterday's leftovers. “A while,” she replies, “since Finn.”

Bellamy gives her a look that Clarke does her level best to ignore. She knows it’s been a long time but after the accident, after Finn died and she’d ended up alone with a baby on the way at twenty one, after everything with her mom...when was she supposed to date, exactly? In her sleep?

“And now,” Aden shouts from his place on the floor, “the dinosaurs  _ can _ get in the train!”

Bellamy turns back to look at him and frowns, muttering something that sounds suspiciously close to ‘ _ now _ they can get on the train.’ 

He focuses his attention back on Clarke. “So it’s good, right?” He says. “Your life can’t be Aden forever, Clarke. It’s good you have a date.”

Clarke sighs. “I know,” she replies, “but this is not a date.”

Bellamy gives her a lopsided smile, arching his eyebrows in a way that lets Clarke know he doesn’t buy it, not for a second.

“It’s not,” Clarke insists, “she’s the CEO, she's a millionaire, she’s - I don’t know,  Bell. It’s just a friendly dinner. She wouldn’t want anything to do with me anyway.”

“Princess,” Bellamy says, his smile dropping, “you know that’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Clarke shrugs. “Shit job, shit apartment, a kid, I just - whatever. I’m not looking for a pep talk, Bell. Just help me figure out the menu.”

To his credit, Bellamy lets it go. “Ok, show me what we’re working with.”

*

With some help from Bellamy, Clarke finally decides on doing some moderately fancy pasta, hoping that some grated cheese that’s absolutely out of her budget manages to make it edible enough for Lexa. It’s not as if Lexa is going to be impressed by anything she manages to come up with, anyway. She probably has a personal chef and eats caviar and drinks champagne every other day. She probably follows some weird new-age diet and only eats cows that get read David Foster Wallace before bed and Clarke is agonizing over some lame pasta dish she’s not even sure she can get right.

She sets Aden’s plate on the table and sits next to him, cutting is pasta into tiny pieces. 

“Mom,” he says, “when is Lexa coming?”

Clarke pushes his plate towards him. “Eat your food, baby,” she replies. “Lexa will be here after you take a bath.”

“But that’s  _ forever _ ,” Aden grumbles, though he starts obediently eating. 

Actually, he starts trying to shove half of his noodles inside his mouth in one scoop. Clarke is going to count it as a win anyway.

“Slow down, Aden.”

Aden shakes his head while trying to chew the absurd amount of noodles inside his mouth. “I need to finish to take a bath so Lexa can come.”

Clarke chuckles. Aden’s crush on Lexa is out of control. “OK,” she says, “but slow down. She’ll be here before you know it.”

Aden finishes his dinner in about five minutes and for the first time in his short life, happily runs to the bathroom and starts undressing himself. 

“Mom,” he shouts, trying in vain to unbutton his jacket, “mom, hurry!”

Clarke sighs for what feels like the hundredth time of the day. At least one of them is excited for Lexa to come.

*

After taking his bath, Aden is usually out like a light. Today, of course, he’s wide awake, excitedly blabbering and bouncing all over the apartment. Meanwhile, Clarke is stirring the damn pasta sauce and squinting at Bellamy’s chicken scratch, trying to make sense of his recipe and hoping beyond hope something edible comes out.

When the doorbell finally rings, Aden squeals high enough for Clarke to jump. 

She takes a deep breath, trying in vain to center herself. She shouldn’t feel like this but she can’t help but feel her shoulders tensing and her heartbeat speeding up.

She sighs, cursing herself for being so nervous and walks to the door.

She opens quickly, like she’s ripping off a bandaid. When she sees what’s on the other side, her heart rate doesn’t get any better. 

Lexa looks like a million dollars. She’s the picture of perfect poise and beauty, dress shirt and thigh pants, a coat hanging from one of her arms. She looks at Clarke expectantly and Clarke’s stomach twists. Her eyes are really green and her face is really nice. Clarke’s really, really attracted to her. 

This is bad.

Lexa smiles shyly and Clarke is momentarily stunned by how charming she finds it. 

“Hello, Clarke,” she says.

Right. She has to say something back. 

“Hi,” Clarke replies.  

She thinks Lexa’s cheeks might even be a little pink and it’s  both attractive and a bit disconcerting. Clarke is used to seeing Lexa strolling through the hallways, making people cower in her wake. Now she’s here, awkwardly smiling at Clarke, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and - wait.

“Did you bring  _ crayons _ ?”

Lexa’s ears turn pink. “I -” she says, looking down at the bag in her hands, “Aden mentioned wanting some. I thought he might - I’m sorry. I should have asked, you might not approve. I can leave them in the car.”

Oh God, this is way past bad. Clarke’s heart is fluttering inside her chest and she’s about to do something irreparably stupid.

She is, thankfully, saved by something hitting the back of her legs.

“Mom!” Aden shouts. “Mom, Lexa is here! Hi Lexa!”

They both look down and smile at Aden at the same time.

“I know baby,” Clarke replies.

She’s about to pick up Aden so he can greet Lexa when she drops her coat, which probably costs more than Clarke’s first car on the floor without a care and crouches so that’s she’s face to face with Aden. She smiles warmly at him.

“Hello, Aden.” She says.

Aden, who has no care for boundaries or Clarke’s mental health just loops his arms around Lexa’s neck and hugs her. Lexa freezes for a second, then her smile widens as she pats Aden awkwardly on the back.

“Hi Lexa!” He repeats.

He takes a step back and notices the crayons. He squeals so loud that Clarke flinches. Her son can be  _ loud _ . Lexa, to her credit, doesn’t react at all beside tilting her head as her blush deepens. 

Aden looks up at Clarke. “Mom, mom, mom,” he says, bouncing in excitement. “Mom, Lexa brought crayons. Mom, can we draw?”

“Slow down, Aden,” she says,  _ again _ , but it’s in vain. Aden is already tugging at a bewildered Lexa’s hand, dragging her into the apartment. 

Clarke pinches the bridge of her nose, takes another deep breath and picks up Lexa’s coat from the floor. 

This is going to be a disaster.

*

Clarke turns up the heat on the sauce, grabs Lexa’s bottle of wine and walks back to the living room. 

She watches the scene awaiting her in silence, still not quite believing what she’s seeing is actually real. 

Lexa is sitting cross legged on the floor, her back perfectly straight, frowning at a piece of paper. Aden is next to her, plopped on the floor on his belly, surrounded by the absurd amount of crayons Lexa brought. It’s probably the  _ Ultra Deluxe set of Crayola mastership _ . Or something.

They have been coloring for half an hour. Half an hour where Aden has pretty much told Lexa that’s she’s terrible at it and corrected every single thing Lexa has tried to color. Lexa looks distinctly amused by this. 

Clarke doesn’t really get it. Lexa has probably never been told “no”, not once in her entire life. Lexa is accustomed to people shutting up when she speaks. She can make grown men tremble with just a lift of her eyebrows, and still she looks perfectly happy with Aden bossing her around and telling her she’s doing a terrible job at coloring some kid’s book about trees.

“Aden, it’s a tree,” Lexa says, pointing at the paper in her hands. “I believe it’s  _ supposed _ to be green.”

Aden giggles. “S’possed to be green. It’s a  _ fire _ tree.”

Lexa lifts an eyebrow and bites her lip. She looks ready to burst out laughing. “A fire tree?”

“A fire tree,” Aden repeats, nodding vigorously. “A fire tree and it’s red and it has flowers and birds.”

“On the fire?”

Aden hums. “And doggies and rabbits and it’s red.”

Lexa lifts up her hands in surrender, smiling. “OK, no more green, then?”

“No,” Aden says and hands Lexa an orange crayon, “you can paint the fire tree with me.”

Lexa scoots closer to Aden and starts using her orange crayon to color where Aden points.

Honestly, this whole thing has probably already shaved a good five years out of Clarke’s life expectancy. There’s no way it’s normal for her heart to feel like is going to burst out of her chest for an entire hour. It’s probably a heart condition. 

She shakes her head, pours two glasses of wine that looks like it costs more than her rent and walks to where Lexa and Aden are on the floor.

“Here,” she says, extending one glass to Lexa.

Lexa looks up to her. “Thank you, Clarke.” 

Clarke feels her cheeks heat up for no reason at all. She coughs awkwardly. “Thank you for the wine.”

Lexa takes a sip of her glass. A sound that’s very close to a moan comes from her mouth and Clarke’s eyes fixate on the movement of her throat as she swallows and oh, God. 

She’s as bad as Aden. At this rate she’s going to be the one dragging Lexa by the hand for playtime and - 

_ No, no, no. That’s a bad thought, Clarke. Bad. _

“And thank you for coming,” she says, just for something to fill the silence. “Aden appreciates it. Don’t you, baby?”

Aden nods absentmindedly, completely focused on coloring his fire tree.

He’s doing a really bad job, coloring all over the lines but he looks happy, his little face scrunched up in concentration. Clarke can help but look at Lexa and smile, feeling the need to share the happiness.

Lexa smiles back. 

Clarke breath catches in her throat. Lexa’s smile is nothing like the ones Clarke has seen on her face maybe once or twice around the office. It’s nothing like the smile she gave Clarke when she gave her the business card. It’s not guarded or complex. It’s not shy or condescending, it’s just bright, soft and beautiful and this is so, so  _ bad _ . 

“So,” Clarke says around the lump in her throat, “dinner's almost ready.”

“Mom,” Aden says, “I want to color more.”

Clarke crosses her arms and gives him her best  _ ‘mom’ _ look. “It’s bedtime for you, mister.”

“I don’t want to!” Aden whines, even if his eyes are drooping in exhaustion.

Clarke reaches for patience and crouches beside him. “Aden, c’mon baby,” she says. “You need to go to bed.”

“No,” he insists, pouting. “I want to play with Lexa.”

“Lexa can’t play right now,” Clarke explains, “it’s dinner time.”

Aden crosses his arms in front of his chest and pouts harder, his bottom lip sticking out and his brow furrowed. Unfortunately for him, Clarke has been immune to this particular tactic since he was a year old.

She turns around to see Lexa graciously pretending to check her cell phone. “I’m sorry,” she says. 

Lexa shakes her head. “Don’t be,” she says. “I’m sorry I got him excited close to his bedtime.”

It’s Clarke’s turn to shake her head. “Don’t be,” she echoes, “he’s always difficult at bedtime.”

“How about this, Aden,” she says, focusing her attention back on him, “you can come play with Lexa while mommy sets the table and then bedtime.”

Aden tilts his head, seemingly considering his options. He sighs, loudly and with an air of  being victim of some great injustice.

Finally, he nods. “OK.”

He jumps from the floor and grabs Lexa’s hand, guiding her to the kitchen table. He then proceeds to guide her to the chair he usually sits on and points. 

“Sit down,” he orders.

Lexa complies with a bewildered smile on her face. “Yes, sir.” 

As soon as she sits down, Aden climbs on her lap, sets his coloring book on the table and starts working on his fire tree again. 

He looks up to Lexa and handles the orange crayon back to her. “Help me, Lexa” 

Lexa smiles and starts coloring again. If Clarke manages to get out of this dinner with her heart still lodged inside her heart, it will be nothing short of a miracle.

*

Predictably, Aden crashes in almost no time at all. By the time Clarke’s finished setting up the plates, he’s out like a light in Lexa’s arms. 

He’s snuggled into Lexa’s neck, clinging to her shirt in his sleep. Lexa is flipping through is coloring book and pretending not to notice him snoring lightly in her ear and probably drooling on her shoulder.

Clarke smiles down at Aden, threading her fingers through his blond hair. “Let me get him to bed and then we can eat.”

Lexa nods, “I can take him,” she says, “if you want.”

Clarke nods and then watches as Lexa easily stands up, somehow managing not to disturb Aden’s sleep. She walks him to the bedroom and drops him on the bed as if he’s made of glass and silently walks out. 

Clarke tucks him in and kisses his forehead, turning on his night light and leaving the door ajar, just in case.

She leans against the wall and looks at the ceiling. 

It’s dinner time.

*

As it turns out, dinner it’s not nearly as bad as Clarke had expected. 

For about five minutes.

As soon as she’s done serving the plates and Lexa has refilled their glasses of wine, it’s exactly as bad as she had expected. 

They are sitting on the table, wine in hand, looking at each other awkwardly in stilted silence. Clarke doesn’t know what to do. They’re about to have dinner, they’re drinking delicious wine and it feels entirely too much like an actual date and she doesn’t know how to make that feeling _go_ _away._

It can’t feel like a date, it just can’t. Clarke can’t want to date Lexa because that’s something that will never, ever happen and she should just save herself the heartbreak, for once. 

It’s Lexa who finally breaks the silence. “How do you like working at Polis, Clarke?”

Clarke relaxes into the chair. Good, work is good. Work is not an appropriate date topic if both parties work together, right? Work is safe. 

“It’s great,” Clarke says, trying to convey all her nonexistent enthusiasm for her job. “I love it.”

Something in her voice must give her away, because Lexa narrows her eyes at her.

“You hate it,” she says.

The tone is not accusatory, not at all, but still Clarke blushes. She wants to deny it but honestly? She hates the job. It’s nothing but menial tasks and attempting to keep Kane from trying to do everything for everybody and running himself to the ground.

It’s not a bad job, not exactly. Clarke knows she should be grateful for the opportunity, the pay is not  _ that _ terrible, Kane is kind and patient, the workload is mostly manageable but she just hates it, she really does.

She’d eat her her own arm before telling Lexa that, though. 

“I don’t hate it,” she lies. 

Lexa clearly doesn’t buy it, but she lets it go. “Kane seems to be happy with your work.”

Clarke frowns. “He does?”

Lexa nods, taking a careful bite of her pasta. “He is,” she elaborates. “He seems under the impression  _ you _ are his boss and not the other way around, but he’s happy.”

Clarke blush deepens. She knows what Lexa’s saying is probably true. She tries everyday to keep her head down and just do her work but she’s not cut out to follow orders, apparently.

“What would you like to do if you could choose?” Lexa asks when the silence as stretched long enough.

Clarke moves food around her plate. “Before Aden, I was in college for med school.”

She looks up and waits for the usual look of pity to materialize in Lexa’s face, but it never does.  

“Are you still interested in pursuing that?” Lexa asks.

Clarke shrugs. “I don’t know,” she answers. “It’s just a pipe dream, anyway.”

Lexa doesn’t offer her a platitude, doesn’t tell her no dream is impossible, she just tilts her head and looks at her inquisitively. “Did you like it?”

Clarke considers the question. She liked the idea of helping people, of making a difference. She might have even loved being a doctor, if she had gotten the chance to actually do it. Now, though, she thinks about med school, about the amount of hours her mom worked, about having to leave Aden in someone else’s hands night after night. She can’t imagine liking it.

“I don’t think it’s right for me,” she answers. “Not anymore.”

Lexa inclines her head in acknowledgment but otherwise doesn’t react to Clarke’s words. 

“What about you?” Clarke asks. “Do you enjoy your job?”

Is a stupid question, Clarke supposes. Lexa is the top dog, the CEO, the very top of the food chain. You have to like the job to get as high as Lexa is at her age.

Lexa, though, hesitates before answering. “Most of the time.” 

That’s all she seems willing to say and Clarke doesn’t want to press. “Thank you for the crayons, by the way, Aden really seemed to love them.”

It’s Lexa’s turn to blush. Clarke stills finds the pink tint on her cheeks way more attractive than she probably should.

“I’m glad,” Lexa says. “I - you’ve done a great job with him. He’s a great kid.”

Pride and love swells inside Clarke’s chest. She feels her smile reach up to her ears. “Thank you.”

Lexa takes another bite of her plate. “This pasta, however,” she says, “is pretty bad.”

Clarke can’t help it, she laughs.  A real laugh, the type that booms out with joy and makes her whole body vibrate with the force of it.

Lexa gives her a lopsided smile, her eyes shining.

Clarke shakes her head. “And here I was trying to impress you.”

Lexa chuckles. “Oh, I am impressed,” she replies without missing a beat. “Just not by your cooking.”

*

Dinner stretches on while they finish Lexa’s amazing wine and talk about nothing and everything. 

Lexa is, surprisingly, easy to talk to and a very good listener. She’s also ridiculously good looking and when she smiles her whole face lights up and her eyes shine. Before Clarke knows it, dinner is done, the wine is empty, she’s pleasantly tipsy and well on her way to being smitten. 

Lexa checks her watch and sighs. “I should go.”

She looks disappointed and Clarke has to try very hard to resist the urge to come up with an excuse for her to stay. 

“Ok,” she replies, “thank you for coming.”

Lexa stands up from the couch and smiles. “Thank you for having me, Clarke,” she says. “It has been a pleasure.”

Clarke arches an eyebrow and grins as she follows her to the door. “Except for the food?”

Lexa mirrors Clarke’s smile and tilts her head. “Except for the food.”

Her smile is beautiful, Clarke thinks for the hundredth time. Lexa is so beautiful, so poised and so unexpectedly kind. Would it be so bad, really, if Clarke just grabbed her face and kissed her?

It probably would be monumentally bad, but Clarke doesn’t really care. She doesn’t really think, actually. She just lets herself be guided by the fluttering inside her chest and the tightening in her stomach and grabs Lexa’s hand, stands on the balls of her feet, and brings their mouths together.

For a second, Lexa doesn’t react at all and cold dread fills Clarke’s veins. 

She’s read this all wrong, she’s read this absolutely wrong and now it’s going to be a disaster and -

Lexa kisses her back.

Clarke feels Lexa’s lips moving against and her heart stops and then leaps. Lexa tilts her head and grabs the back of Clarke’s neck, deepening the kiss and it’s all Clarke can do not to whimper. It’s tender and soft, hesitant and gentle and still she feels her knees grow weak with the intensity of it. 

When she feels Lexa trace her bottom lip with her tongue it suddenly hits Clarke exactly what she is doing. She’s kissing her boss. The boss of the boss of her boss. She’s kissing  _ Alexandria Woods.  _

She takes a step back and Lexa immediately does the same, wide eyed and breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa says.

“No,” Clarke replies, “I’m sorry. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, that was so inappropriate. I’m sorry.”

“It’s,” Lexa coughs. “I - It’s OK. I should go.”

Clarke nods, not knowing what else to do. Lexa is right: she should go. Lexa should go and Clarke should forget this night happened at all.

That would be the smart thing to do.

Instead, when Lexa turns around and starts walking away, Clarke can’t help but speak up.

“Actually,” Clarke says, “you know what? I’m not.”

Lexa turns around, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What?”

“Sorry,” Clarke explains. “I’m not sorry. Not if you aren’t. I know it’s probably inappropriate in a million different ways but -” she shrugs. “I’m not sorry.”

Lexa smile is slow to come but when it’s there, it’s brilliant. “OK,” she says. 

“OK?” Clarke repeats.

“OK,” Lexa says. “We’re not sorry.”

Warmth spreads across Clarke’s chest. “Goodnight, Lexa.”

Lexa nods, brilliant smile still firmly in place. “Goodnight, Clarke.”

*

It takes Clarke a good half an hour to stop smiling long enough to actually fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i hoped you liked! if you have a minute, i would love to hear what you think!
> 
> feel free to come poke me at @jonvonneumann anytime :)


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